The Beginning of the Quest
by Rosa Cotton
Summary: INCOMPLETE Sept. 23, 1418 S.R., it is a busy day for all the hobbits: troubling dreams, packing, ponderings and worries, and hard goodbyes. And in the hours of darkness, not all is asleep and still. Ch. 3: Afternoon Tea Missed, Apologies, and Goodbyes
1. Shadows Before Daybreak

Disclaimer: Of course, I do not own the characters, setting, or anything else from _The Lord of the Rings._ Most of the plot also is not mine; I just used my imagination to add details to certain scenes. Nor am I making money from this. 

Author's Note: This story is book-verse and there are some references to one of my other stories, _Falling into a Dream of Growing Shadow_. Feedback is more than welcomed!

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The Beginning of the Quest

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Chapter 1: Shadows Before Daybreak 

Dawn still slept on. Grey clouds slowly drifted across the sky. Not a single star could peek through the misty sea to the sleeping hills and valleys. The crisp air moved soundlessly through the still trees and bushes and grass. Crickets were silent. Not a hoot described the quietness; only an owl once blinked its large eyes. The beating of bats' wings was not heard. Leaves quivered, moving slightly on the road. The forest seemed to hold its breath, aware of the unnatural stillness of the night.  

On the edge of the road sat a hunched figure wrapped in a dark cloak and hooded. The slight fall and rise of their chest were invisible to the naked eye. Their shallow breathing passed from their nostrils without a whisper of sound. They simply listened to the silence, watching. Time passed at a crawl and a rush. Still nothing stirred. A break broke in the clouds, allowing some starlight to pour forth. 

The figure tensed. Their ears strained, listening to the deafening silence and their thundering heartbeat. There it was again! The distant sound of hoofs softly thudding on the leaf-covered road. The figure blinked, slowly turning their head first one way, staring into the darkness, then the other way searchingly. 

With each hoof step, the ground seemed to tremble with unease. The figure slowly reached and wound their fingers around the hilt of their sword. A soft whistle passed between their lips, two long whistles, and one short. A moment later the whistle was answered by another. The figure, still tense and on alert, was relieved. 

A horse neighed. Whipping their head to the left, the figure peered into the darkness. The hoofs steadily drew nearer. The figure stood up without a noise. Stealthily they walked onto the road and faced the approaching, yet still invisible, rider. Gripping the sword's hilt tighter, they stared down the road. At first all that they saw was darkness. Slowly, their sharp eyesight distinguished movement against the blackness. Eight tiny fiery lights shined forth. The figure threw their hood back – revealing a man of dark skin, with shoulder length brown hair, and green eyes – and drew his sword, the steel ringing loudly in the night. The strange lights pierced the figure with their gazes. With a shudder, the man realized the lights were eyes…of horses. The riders blended in with the night, yet at the same time stood out, for they were dressed in the deepest of black, cloaked and hooded, a shade darker than the shadows. 

"Who goes there?" The man called loudly, fighting against the urge not to break the stillness. His heart pounded, his skin crawling as he was seized with a terrible dread.  

The riders advanced, riding side by side stopping several yards from the man who blocked their way. Very still they sat in the saddles, crouched and silent. One horse shook its head; another stomped its hoof against the ground.

"Answer!" The man stepped closer, eyes narrowed in suspicion, body trembling.  

"Let us pass, in the name of Mordor!" the bloodcurdling hiss came from deep in the blackness of one of the hooded riders. 

The man paled at the command and name and stared as one rider urged their steed forward a few steps. He lowered his sword a little, not being able to move or speak. As he looked into the hood, only darkness met his gaze. He seemed to fall into a tunnel of endless black, where there was no hint of light. Soundlessly he opened his mouth. His heart was squeezed in his chest with terror. His sword fell from his limp hand. It seemed tall shadows surrounded him, and horrible cries filled his eyes. The man shook his head and looked at the riders with panicked eyes. A wild scream fled his lips, and then he fell. 

The rider urged his horse forward with a leap and was followed by the others. The forest became quiet once again, but now a feeling of fear hung in the air. To the creatures awake, soon there came the sounds of the clashing of blades, voices giving orders, and cries of pain. The sound of desperate running echoed in the ground which trembled. A chilling scream rose in the air, causing even the insects to freeze. After that, not a sound of blade against blade, yells, or running was heard. 

Slowly hoofs were heard coming at a trot. The riders passed over the lifeless ranger and disappeared. But the sense of forbidding and unease remained about. Only three riders had backtracked the way they had come. 

Evil remained in the Shire. 

~~~   

Merry gasped and bolted upright in his bed. His heart pounded painfully in his chest. He was covered in sweat. He could not stop shaking. Slowly he untangled himself from the covers, crawled from the bed, and nearly collapsed -- had he not used the window sill for support. He leaned his wet forehead against the cool pane of glass. Taking deep breaths, he warily closed his eyes.

He had had _the_ dream again. It had been many years since he experienced the strange, frightful dream about his cousin and Sam. He had never forgotten it – he had often thought of it as he had carefully watched Frodo this past year – but this was the first he had dreamed it again. He had once more unsuccessfully attempted to follow his friends and helplessly watched as those strange creatures reached for Frodo. The darkness came again, and Merry could not find his cousin who called for him. But then the dream had continued. A voice had called to him, telling him to hurry, hurry! Before it was too late…_hurry!_

Hurry? What did it mean? Merry opened his eyes and stared at the darkened countryside. Hurry…to leave Hobbiton? Crickhollow? The Shire? Or did the message mean something else entirely? Merry flopped heavily into a chair by the fire, brow furrowed in worry. For many hours he pondered his dream and why he had had it again. He did not get another wink of sleep.

~~~ 

TBC…


	2. Memories, Concern, and Admiration

Chapter 2: Memories, Concern, and Admiration

"This is the last," Pippin declared a bit breathlessly as he and Folco carried the final trunk to the wagon. Frodo watched from the doorway. Fatty was in the seat ready to be off as soon as the trunk was packed away and Merry showed up.

While he watched the hobbits with a look of calm, Frodo wrung his hands, feeling anything but calm at the moment. He had been hoping that Gandalf would show up momentarily, but the morning was waning without a trace of the wizard. He wondered and worried over his friend's whereabouts.

He had stayed up after all the others had retired for the night, packing away the last of his possessions which Merry and Fatty would take to Crickhollow. Many of the things he quickly packed away, for he was only half-interested in what he took with him from Bag End. How strange it felt to him – to pack off everything to Crickhollow; yet who knew when he would get to use these things again…if ever? He had been tempted to leave behind things which he had never really cared for, but that would make others very suspicious, and gossip traveled quickly throughout Hobbiton. However, Frodo examined carefully the final items he packed.

The last items did not seem that special to an ordinary observer, but they were to Frodo: a short poem written by his mother; several locks of hair saved from a haircut Bilbo gave Frodo, Merry, Sam, and Pippin one summer day; a small wooden dragon given to him by Gandalf years ago; a few framed drawings in simple blackberry juice of his friends. A lump had formed in his throat as he gazed and touched each item in turn.

After he had carefully packed them away, Frodo had sat on his bed and wept. He wept for his parents, of whom he had neither memories of their appearance nor times he had shared with them. He wept for his dear cousin Bilbo, whom he missed terribly. He wept for Sam, in gratitude of his coming with him on this quest. He wept for Gandalf, filled with anxious worry of where the wizard was, and uneasiness at the thought that he and Sam would have to go on without him. He wept for Pippin and Merry, who were so excited over the fact that he now would reside in Crickhollow, where they could visit him more often. He had nodded and given a strained smile as they talked about what they could do when they stopped by. He had felt a great pang in his heart at his cousins' excited eyes and bright smiles. How he would miss his favorite cousins! He hated thinking of how he would sneak out of Crickhollow, how he would say goodbye. He hated the thought of having to lie to his cousins. But he also wept with relief, for at least a few of those dear to him would remain safe in the Shire, out of danger. He had spent the rest of the night feeling restless, sleeping a little only to wake up suddenly in the middle of the night. Now, however, the time for weeping was over, and worry and concern swam in his head – for what the future held, for Gandalf. And then there was Merry…

The cousin in question at that moment breezed through the door and would have gone down the steps had not Frodo grabbed him by the sleeve.

"Half a minute, cousin," Frodo said in a slightly questioning tone.

Merry turned to him and blinked curiously. "Oh, yes, cousin Frodo?"

Frodo lifted an eyebrow. "All right there? You have seemed a bit…oh, I don't know. You have been rushing about all morning, and you have been talking to yourself, something you never do."

A light frown settled on Frodo's face. He had been shocked when he had gotten up early today and found Merry already up and having a cup of tea. He had seemed preoccupied, deep in thought and very serious – quite unlike himself. While Fatty, Folco, and Pippin had filled Bag End with song, laughter, and merriment, Merry was silent, observant, seeming to disappear only to reappear, and a bit jumpy. Frodo turned his attention to his cousin.

"I have, about what?" Merry's eyes widened, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot. Had he been that obvious?

"I do not know, but whatever it is, you frown deeply and you would glance around with a bit of unease." Frodo studied Merry carefully.

"Oh, well, I did not realize. I…there has just been a bit on my mind, I guess. I didn't get much sleep," Merry stammered. "When are you and Sam and Pippin leaving?" he asked hoping to switch attention away from himself.

Frodo was caught off guard by the question. "At nightfall, if Gandalf does not show."

Merry pursed his lips. Who knew if nightfall would be too late? He sighed. It would have to do. If he begged Frodo to leave sooner, that would lead to questions he did not want to answer. He had told no one about the dream he had all those years ago. "Very well," he nodded and resumed going down the stairs.

Frodo followed closely behind, not at all satisfied that Merry had avoided his question. Folco and Pippin jumped out of the back of the wagon, satisfied with the packing of the luggage. Sam gave the pony a few lumps of sugar, while Merry took his seat next to Fatty, taking up the reins.

"We shall have the house warmed up for you when you arrive," Merry told Frodo, who looked up him. "We will hopefully see you day after tomorrow if you do not sleep more than you walk," Merry said it in a teasing tone and with a playful smile, but inside he was anxious, praying that the hobbits would not waste time traveling to Bucklebury Ferry. _Hurry, cousin!_ he silently shouted.

With a final round of good-byes and waves, Merry flicked the reins, and the wagon rumbled down the road. Fatty started singing a popular tune, but Merry was completely silent, lost deep in his thoughts.

---

Folco gave a last wave to his friends as he closed the gate behind him and started to head for home. He had bid farewell to the three hobbits, wishing them safe travel and looked forward to seeing them again. He had hugged each one in turn, exchanging meaningful glances with Pippin and Sam. The silent exchange had an air of finality, for who knew when they would meet again?

Folco had come to carry a new sense of respect towards Sam, Merry, and Pippin. They were leaving behind everything that was familiar and comforting – their home, family and friends, their safe haven – to see that Frodo would not have to face the future alone. That act of selfless love showed Folco how deep the four hobbits' friendship ran.

Yet he could not say he envied them. Tramping out of the safe borders of the Shire was not for him. A journey which could last for months and possibly end in tragedy was not to his liking. He only hoped that what he had done would be enough. He would keep this great secret to himself and hope for his friends' safe return.

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TBC…


	3. Afternoon Tea Missed, Apologies, and Goo...

Author's Note: So sorry for taking so long to update this. I had the scenes for this chapter, but struggled with how to flush them out, make them come to life. Hope this is worth the wait. Thank you all who have reviewed.

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Chapter 3: Afternoon Tea Missed, Apologies, and Good-byes

Frodo had just taken the kettle off the fire; he had volunteered to make afternoon tea to try to calm his anxious nerves when he heard it, that joyful and long-awaited sound, the doorbell!

"Gandalf!" he whispered happily. Immediately all worries and cares fell from Frodo's shoulders, and his face brightened. He quickly set the kettle down on the table, careful not to spill the hot water inside. He rushed out of the kitchen and into the front hall to discover Sam and Pippin had already answered the door. They both looked over their shoulders at him with helplessness and sympathy before being pushed aside by the one who had rung the bell. Frodo suppressed a groan, and his light heart fell. His worries were replaced with annoyance. He opened his mouth to greet politely his much- unexpected guests.

"At long last ours!" Lobelia Sackville-Baggins exclaimed, spreading open her arms and gazing about the hole with hungry eyes. From behind her appeared her son, Lotho.

Sam soundlessly shut the door behind the two visitors.

Ignoring Lobelia's very impolite and not completely true outburst and her barging in without an invitation, Frodo plastered a smile on his face.

"Lobelia, Lotho," he said, nodding to each. "What an unexpected…pleasure."

"Mister Baggins," Lotho said with mock respect.

Sam balled his fists as anger rose in him, and Pippin laid a firm hand on the hobbit's shoulder; yet he also had to keep his own anger toward Lotho in check

Lobelia seemed finally to be aware of Frodo. She narrowed her eyes and examined him like an animal stalking its prey. "Mister Baggins, what a surprise. I thought you had left this morning…," she asked more out of curiosity than politeness, looking a bit irritated that he was still there.

"I sent Merry off with the last cart," Frodo replied coolly. "I plan on leaving here at nightfall."

Lobelia did not bother to hide from the three friends her expression of displeasure at this answer. It was immaterial that she would not rightfully own it until after midnight.

"That late?" she asked with dismay, the "why?" shining clearly in her eyes.

Frodo nodded firmly. "Yes, there is some business I desire to finish before I go." Of course he did not bring up Gandalf; if he did, that would only serve to make his Sackville relatives more difficult. And he did want to look over Bag End a final time.

"Indeed," Lotho said, raising one brown eyebrow. Frodo nodded again, keeping silent.

"We simply wanted to come and make certain that we are getting our money's worth," Lobelia stated, eyeing Frodo suspiciously. "I don't want to discover that something that is rightfully ours has been carried off." And here she let her gaze rest for a moment on Sam and Pippin, who were watching the unfolding scene with a bit of interest. Both shifted uneasily under her piercing stare.

"Everything is here, safe and sound." Frodo tried to turn attention away from his friends and reassure his relative. He succeeded when the hawk-like eyes returned to him. She huffed heavily.

She muttered to herself, though loud enough for Sam and Pippin to hear, "I bet they are going to carry off something; that is why they will not leave until real late!" Sam was the one to restrain Pippin this time. Then Lobelia raised her voice. "Indeed," she said untrustingly.

Frodo simply gazed at her while she gazed back. A silence fell in the front hall. Both Lobelia and Lotho looked as though they expected to be properly invited in, or to be offered tea, or to be moved to more comfortable quarters to finish this discussion. But none happened. And the silence went on for a while more before Lobelia sniffed in disapproval.

She said, "I desire to make doubly sure that nothing has been misplaced…" Lotho handed his mother a rather large stack of papers. "A _complete_ inventory," he explained, seeing Frodo's puzzled face and then his widening eyes, and smirked.

"A complete inventory…" Frodo weakly repeated. He exchanged a dismayed glance with Pippin and Sam. He saw his hope of spending the rest of the afternoon enjoying tea while talking with his friends and, of course, keeping an eye out for Gandalf, and taking a last walk through Bag End and the garden unravel before his eyes. He wrung his hands a little, becoming quite annoyed. He sighed.

"Where shall we begin…?" he asked, resigned to his fate. It would be best to humor Lobelia and Lotho; otherwise, there might be a huge rift between them and him, and he did not want that. He only wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. A corner of his mouth turned up slightly as the thought occurred to him that he could put them off just a little by not offering them any tea. And even if he did, they would have to settle for cold tea and no biscuits. Coming out of his thoughts, he discovered both Sackville-Bagginses marching down the hall. Frodo half-walked and half-jogged to catch up with them, while Sam and Pippin were right on his heels.

"The first on here are those particular large silver spoons…" Lobelia's voice floated back to Frodo's ears. Now there was no way of avoiding the kitchen and having Lobelia and Lotho drop a hint or two about tea. Frodo silently groaned to himself.

---

Nearly four long hours later, an exhausted Frodo determinedly saw his guests to the door. Lobelia had insisted on going through the inventory _twice_, and she had managed to swindle a few things that were not included on the inventory. They had then made excuses for lingering even longer. Lobelia still suspected that something would disappear with Frodo or his companions. And Lotho demanded to know if indeed all of Bilbo's treasure was gone. They had worn out their welcome a long time ago. Frodo's patience was close to breaking, and his legs and feet were begging for a rest. Now he just wanted the two hobbits _out_. So he had put his foot down and firmly herded Lobelia and Lotho toward the front door, ignoring their protests.

Lobelia had the spare keys to Bag End. It had taken a long argument to persuade her to come for the other later; and she still was not happy about the arrangement. "Surely you could leave the key elsewhere than with the Gamgees," she snorted with disgust. "They will probably break in sometime during the night and make off with what they can to help make ends meet."

"I have complete trust in them," Frodo said, his jaw tightening. His goal was nearly accomplished. Ahead of him, Pippin opened the door with a grand flourish. Sam trailed behind Frodo. "If I leave the key anywhere else," he continued with a slightly bemused voice, and Lobelia and Lotho turned in the doorway to face him, "then I would agree with you that Bag End might be robbed in the middle of the night."

Lobelia's mouth fell open in shock, her face reddening, feeling, no doubt, insulted. But she had no retort for that comment. Lotho glared at Frodo.

Then, with a final nod to each in turn, and a "Good-bye, Lobelia, good-bye Lotho," Frodo stepped back and Pippin happily shut the door on the Sackville-Baggines' grumpy faces. A few minutes ticked by while Frodo and Sam and Pippin looked at one another silently. Frodo grinned, which set off the others. Whoops, laughter, and clapping filled the air as the hobbits celebrated. Frodo even did a little jig. That was the last he would have to deal with his confounded relatives for a long time, he was sure. Frodo basked in the happy thought.

---

Pippin trudged through the garden behind Bag End. He had not eaten as much as he usually did today. He had missed tea because of the Sackville-Bagginses, but he and the others had had it along with their dinner.

He frowned. Maybe he had not a large appetite today because he had been thinking a lot about his family. It was several days ago he had left Tookland to come here to help his cousin Frodo move from Hobbiton to Crickhollow. He had bid farewell to his family and friends. They had made sure that he promised he would come back as soon as Frodo was settled in. Pippin had nodded and reassured his fussing parents. But in his heart he had apologized to them for claiming he would be back soon, for he believed he would be gone for quite a while. He silently apologized for what worry he would cause them. He promised to be careful and take care of Frodo, for that was why he was going in the first place. Frodo needed him. Pippin would help as best he could. He may only be a tweenager, but he had to do this. Granted, it had taken a week or two until he could sway Merry into letting him come, but he would not be left behind when his friends were going to face who knew what. And he silently apologized for lying about only going as far as Crickhollow, for he knew he would not see the Shire for a while.

Pippin blinked back tears as he was hit with a pang of homesickness. He tossed his head and stood straight and tall. He would miss his family and friends, but he could not let these feelings win out. Cousin Frodo was a great source of support to him, one he could turn to in times of distress, and now he would return the favor, for Frodo needed him now.

---

Sam had taken a walk about as soon as he had finished his meal. Now he glanced nervously at the house at the top of the steps from the road. He had walked past the house at least five times. He was still struggling over whether to go up and knock on the round door or just to leave without making his presence known. Yet the latter thought made his heart sting, and he could not decide. Would he even be welcomed if he dared go to that door? Or would matters only be worse if he went on his way? He started pacing along the road, talking to himself about which action he should follow, only to object to that particular choice, and the debate went on.

"Hello, Sam," a voice brought him out of his argument.

Startled, he looked about until his eyes landed on Rosie Cotton, watching him from the edge of the large yard. A small smile was on her face, her brown eyes shone with questioning and gentle amusement. Sam felt himself blush, and shyly he came near her. "Hello, Rose-lass," he greeted.

"You are still here. Pa thought you had already left," she said.

"We are leaving shortly. I was…eh, just taking a final stroll about," Sam tried to explain himself, wondering if she had seen his pacing.

Rosie stepped closer. The sun had set, yet the sky, afire with purples and oranges and reds gave enough light for Sam to see the sadness swimming in her brown eyes. "You have come to say good-bye…?" she trailed off uncertainly, as though she knew if she had not made her presence known, he would not be standing before her at that very moment.

Sam opened to his mouth to say yes, but at meeting her eyes, he faltered. He could not lie to her. Yet he did not know the answer. He bowed his head. "I…I don't kn-know," he whispered unsteadily.

The sound of crickets filled in the silence. Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He heard Rosie sigh.

"Yes, you do," she said softly. Sam lifted his head and looked at her with confusion. Her eyes searched his face. "For why else would you come here in the first place if you are not?" He could only gaze at her in amazement. He did not know what to say. He had distanced himself from her for both their sakes, to lessen the hurt when this time came. Yet both had still been hurt: Rosie, because she did not understand what she had done to cause him to draw away without explaining himself; Sam, because his heart broke at knowing Rosie thought she was to blame for his shunning her. He desperately wanted to ask her to wait for him, but he could not, for he did not know if he would ever return to the Shire. Mister Frodo needed him right now.

"Rosie, I don't—" He was silenced by Rosie's pressing a slender finger against his lips.

"Don't," she pleaded. "Let me make it easier for you." She trembled and then steadied herself. "I will not ask for promises, as you may not be permitted to keep them. And there are some things that are better left unspoken now." Here Rosie turned her eyes away for a moment, lest Sam see her pain.

Sam felt tears form in his eyes. He understood her words; yet he suddenly desired to reject her wise advice and share what was in his heart to her. He did not – could not – speak of it, for Rosie's finger was still against his mouth. She stood on the tips of her toes so that her lips were near his ear.

"I will only say this," Rosie continued. "Be safe, Samwise Gamgee. Take care of those who go with you. Do not lose hope when all seems lost. Be brave and faithful and loyal; know when to show trust and mercy, that we all may be proud. Be wary of those who would hinder you. Complete your task; do not give in when it seems impossible to fulfill your responsibility. Take as long as you need."

Sam was speechless at her words. Did she suspect something…? He blinked. She said to take as long as he would need. She did not ask him to hurry back, did not ask him to come back to her. She was letting him go, free without any strings keeping him attached to her, to being unable to complete his task.

Rosie lowered herself onto her heels and gazed up at him for a moment. With her free hand she undid the yellow ribbon in her hair and gave it to him. "Something to remember the Shire by," she explained softly. Then she laid a featherlike kiss on his cheek. Her face was calm and filled with peace, while tears were in her eyes. "Good-bye, Samwise." With that she withdrew her finger from against his lips and quickly made her way up to the door of her house. With a final glance over her shoulder at him, she disappeared inside.

Sam slowly swallowed. He didn't know whether to cry for joy or sadness. He did neither. Instead, he silently thanked Rosie for sparing him the making of vows he could not keep and for being so…unselfish. He only regretted not being able to tell her that he would miss her. He looked down at the satin ribbon in his hand. A few brown hairs were wrapped around it. Tenderly, he caressed it. He held it to his heart for a moment, then carefully folded it up and put it in his pocket. "I will remember you, Rosie." It was the one vow he was allowed. He gazed at the house a final time, gave a wave, and started for Bag End. It was just about time to go.

As the hobbit started walking down the lane, a curtain at one of the windows fell back into place.

---

TBC…


End file.
